


Anti-kink: Food!porn

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1192938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another installment in my anti-kink series (archived <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a> on LJ). Yep, still not letting the poor boys have any fun!</p>
<p>Some things are just much sexier in theory than reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Food!porn

**Food!porn**  
  
  
Sam was feeling pretty pleased with himself.  
  
He had to admit that a few of his and Dean’s attempts to spice up a relationship that, frankly, was already sinful enough had ended in disaster. However, he’d finally stumbled upon a kink that simply could not fail: food.  
  
It was perfect. Dean loved food, and Dean loved sex. And Sam loved a horny Dean. So it was an all-round winning situation. He was a genius.  
  
“Dean, I...What are you eating?”  
  
“Dunno. Some kind of chocolate syrup stuff; found it in the cupboard. Do you want some...Oh. Sorry, ate it all. You snooze, you lose, eh kiddo?”  
  
“Dean! That wasn’t for eating!”  
  
“It wasn’t?” Dean looked confused.  
  
“No! I mean, it was, but not with a spoon!”  
  
Now Dean looked even more confused. Sam always got pissy when he just licked the frosting out of the jar...  
  
“I thought we’d eat it, you know, _together_.” He gave his brother a significant glance. He looked sort of adorable with chocolate smudged around his mouth like a four year-old, the complete idiot. “And, actually, that’s a good point. How come you didn’t even save me any? Would it kill you to share the food with me?”  
  
“I didn’t know you’d found it! Besides, didn’t you just say it wasn’t for eating?” Dean lamely attempted to defend himself. God, his brother was a total woman; he must have grown a uterus and be going through some kind of menstrual trauma to get so worked up over a jar of chocolate.  
  
“But you didn’t know that at the time!”  
  
Throwing up his hands in exasperation, Sam stomped off to the bathroom, since it was the only place to go in the room where there was a dramatic door-slamming opportunity. He knew he seemed like he was overreacting to Dean, but he’d really been looking forward to getting chocolate licked off his body, damn it! And why the hell did Dean have to ruin it all by finding his sneakily hidden goodies? Even if he hadn’t realised that it was Sam who’d done the hiding. And, on that note, why was Dean eating random stuff that he found in the cupboards of skeevy motels anyway? Was that a regular thing for him? Ew.  
  
And who the hell ate an entire jar of chocolate sauce on its own? What a moron. Sam would have to be less subtle next time and immediately slather whatever he’d bought on his naked brother lest he practically inhale it into the bottomless pit that was his stomach.  
  
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he re-emerged from the bathroom, only to be almost mown down by Dean charging for the toilet.  
  
As it turned out, he probably shouldn’t have bought food past its expiry date just because it was on sale.  
  
Three days later, a very cranky, very drained Dean finally stopped getting the runs. And finally stopped whingeing about it to Sam in vivid detail, as if he hadn’t heard and smelled more than he ever wanted to know already.  
  
All Sam could really be grateful for was that they hadn’t used the chocolate for any kind of sexual activity. Because the results of eating it? Not that sexy. And it would have been infinitely worse if they’d both been affected; he’d been about twelve the last time that he and Dean had been ill enough simultaneously to tag-team the toilet, and he was quite sure that the results would be even more disastrous now. For a start, he rather doubted that the sink would take either of their weight if things got really dire, and the outcome of that just didn’t bear thinking about.  
  
Two weeks proved just about long enough for them to sufficiently recover from the horror, and Sam decided that it was safe to broach the idea of using food during sex again. Well, broach it for the first time actually, because he hadn’t been brave enough to admit to Dean that he’d bought the chocolate or what he’d intended to use it for.  
  
“So, I was thinking...”  
  
“Crap,” sighed Dean. “So am I gonna end up injured, or just arrested this time...?”  
  
“Shut up. I’m the one who ended up with the broken nose and the poison ivy rash all over my body! And we didn’t get _arrested_ ; can you stop exaggerating everything for one minute?!”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry; was I stealing your melodramatic limelight? Your nose barely even bled and you had one tiny patch of red on your butt!”  
  
“Oh, really? So why did you insist on spending twenty minutes rubbing aloe everywhere then?”  
  
Dean grinned. “Maybe I just like any excuse to grope you.”  
  
Sam gave an unwilling chuckle, feeling a little flash of heat low in his groin at the bedroom eyes suddenly being thrown in his direction. His stupid sexy brother made it very difficult to stay annoyed with him sometimes.  
  
“So what’s your new dumb idea?”  
  
Then again.  
  
“I was thinking we could use food next time we fuck,” replied Sam bluntly.  
  
Dean’s brow crinkled. “What kind of food?” A rather disturbing image of Sam slathered in bacon and cheese and stuffed into a giant bun invaded his brain. Was it bad that he found the idea kinda hot...?  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, all too easily imagining what Dean was picturing. “Well, at the risk of making all your dreams come true, I was thinking...pie.”  
  
Dean’s eyes lit up. “Pie? What flavour?”  
  
“Whatever flavour they have,” shrugged Sam. Who cared? As long as it was edible enough to entice Dean to lick his naughty parts, he didn’t really give a shit.  
  
“Man, I hope they have cherry.”  
  
“Okay, whatever. See, I thought we could –”  
  
“I guess blueberry would be okay.”  
  
“Yeah, fine. As long as –”  
  
“I’m not having chocolate. Ugh.”  
  
“Will you shut up about the friggin’ pie?!”  
  
“Alright, calm down. It was your damned idea!”  
  
“Yeah, and I stupidly thought that you might be more interested in the having sex with me part than the flavour of the goddamned pie!”  
  
“I can have sex with you anytime,” said Dean with a dismissive hand wave.  
  
Sam gaped at him in outrage. “You can have pie anytime!”  
  
“Not since the fun police started whingeing at me every time I try to eat something I like,” he retorted with a glare. And hey, what the hell was he doing? Sam was not only offering him pie without one of those snide “spare tyre” remarks, but he was gonna throw in a fuck as well! Dean promptly shut his mouth.  
  
Satisfied that his brother was going to be on his best behaviour, Sam magnanimously went out to get the vital ingredient for his latest experiment. He was too horny to wait any longer; he hadn’t stepped within a five foot radius of Dean since the onset of the food poisoning.  
  
When he got back (having had to visit three fucking diners just to find some goddamned cherry pie, because he was the best brother ever), Dean was already spread-eagled on the bed wearing nothing but a smile.  
  
Sam almost dropped the pie. Okay, so maybe he was the second best brother ever.  
  
“Strip,” grinned Dean. “Come on, hurry up!” he demanded three seconds later when Sam had only managed to deposit the box out of his reach and toe off one shoe.  
  
“Patience,” chided Sam with a little laugh, eyes roaming over Dean’s gorgeous body, nipples peaked in the cool blast from the air-con.  
  
“Screw that, I’m frickin’ starving!” Seeing the beginnings of a bitchface and, worse, a slowing down in the clothes-removal process, Dean quickly backtracked. “Uh, I mean, I can’t wait to get on with the ass-fucking!”  
  
“Nice.”  
  
Dean gave a half-shrug; he’d never claimed to be a romantic.  
  
Eventually, Sam had managed to strip to a grumbled soundtrack from his brother, and he crawled onto the bed, armed with the box and a sly grin. “Got your favourite.”  
  
Face lighting up like a little kid’s at Christmas, Dean sat up and reached for Sam, pulling him close and kissing him deeply, tongue teasing its way into his mouth and leaving him breathless. Sam felt his dick grow hard so quickly that he should have been dizzy and he mindlessly pressed his body against Dean’s, wanting the friction.  
  
Finally, Dean broke away, leaving Sam dazed and...empty-handed.  
  
“Dude, did you just make out with me as a distraction so that you could steal the pie?”  
  
“Of course not,” replied Dean absently as he flipped the lid on the box and practically started drooling. “It was just a pleasing side-effect. Now, lay down.”  
  
“What if I wanted to do the licking?” teased Sam, even though he was already eagerly flopping down on the bed, palming himself in anticipation.  
  
Dean snorted as he ran his eyes over Sam’s form, lingering pointedly on his rock-hard dick. “Right. Like you didn’t set this whole thing up so that _I’d_ lick _you_.” Sam was selfish when he could get away with it, and Dean still wasn’t great at general body worship (because he didn’t have the patience) or extended blowjobs (because he didn’t like the taste), so Sam’s plan wasn’t exactly a subtle one. Still, Dean wasn’t too offended because, you know, _pie_. Sneaky little bastard.  
  
Dean eyed the pie in the box, which had been sliced, and his stomach growled noisily. Valiantly ignoring it, he flicked his glance between his waiting brother and the dessert. How to proceed? He couldn’t exactly just plop a slice down on Sam’s stomach and chow down; it might seem like a pretty damned appealing idea to him, but Sam probably wouldn’t get much out of it.  
  
“What are you waiting for?”  
  
“Uh...How should I do this?”  
  
Sam scrunched up his face, about to make a comment regarding Dean’s evident stupidity, when he realised that it was actually a pretty good question. “Well...You have to...um...scoop some out and kinda smear it on?”  
  
“Oh, that’s sexy,” retorted Dean sarcastically, but he didn’t exactly have any better ideas. Shrugging, he broke the crust off one slice and tried to snatch up some filling as well, bringing the whole mess over to Sam’s torso and crumbling it all over him (and the bed). He swiped his sticky fingers over Sam’s belly, spreading sweet, warm, gloopy filling.  
  
Sam scrunched up his face. It both felt and looked pretty gross, unsettlingly similar to the last time that a zombie had exploded all over him.  
  
Dean didn’t seem put off in the slightest. Then again, he appeared to be concentrating on licking cherry filling from between his fingers, moaning ecstatically at the taste and making his orgasm face. Trying to be exasperated rather than turned on, Sam licked his lips and then huffed, “Hello?”  
  
“Hmm? Oh, right.” Dean swiped his tongue over his plump bottom lip – and oh sweet Jesus, Sam thought that really should be illegal in some, if not all, States – and eyed Sam hungrily. Well, the pie, but the pie was on Sam, so it totally counted.  
  
Dean scooted down the bed a little and then dropped his lips to Sam’s ribs, placing a quick kiss there before going to work nibbling at flakes of crust and lapping at the filling, dragging his tongue in thick sweeps.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” murmured Sam, arching up into the attention. Dean’s mouth was a fucking marvel; it was so hot and sensual and...gone.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
“Pie’s gone. Hold on.”  
  
“Already?” Sam looked down at his tacky stomach. Wow, Dean was like a vacuum cleaner. Sort of. It looked as if half the slice of pie had actually tumbled off onto the sheets or was smooshed over Dean’s face, but still. His table manners always had left a lot to be desired. “Hurry up.”  
  
This time, Dean smeared the dessert lower, through Sam’s happy trail and almost to his thick patch of hair at his groin. Sam wriggled happily as Dean got back to work, stomach muscles fluttering. Gasping softly, Sam tried to subtly alter his position so that his cock was a little closer to Dean’s mouth. When his brother didn’t get the hint, Sam tried being slightly less subtle, hitching his hips up and shifting, practically smacking Dean in the face with the head of his dick. When that _still_ didn’t work, Sam propped himself up on his elbows with a pout, trying to get a good look at what was going on.  
  
Dean was...He was actually concentrating on eating the pie! The tool! He was obviously supposed to be using the food as a flimsy excuse to lick his way down to Sam’s cock and then give him a dirty blowjob. God, did he know nothing?  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes, watching Dean sucking pie off his tummy and swallowing it whole like chewing had gone out of fashion. He was still moaning, eyes closed, lost in the moment...but Sam was rapidly realising that it didn’t really have anything to do with him. Oh God, his brother was cheating on him with baked goods! How depressing. He was afraid to look whether or not Dean was hard; it would raise some troubling questions.  
  
“Dean?...Dean....Dean!”  
  
“Huh?” Dean looked up guiltily. “Oh, uh, mmmm, you taste so good...”  
  
Sam raised his eyebrows, highly unimpressed with Dean’s lame platitude.  
  
“And, look, I’m just getting to the good part,” continued Dean, hoping that a well-timed dick-sucking might avert the imminent bitchface. He offered an almost comically lascivious leer and then stuck his tongue out, slowly and deliberately circling it around Sam’s belly button before flattening it and dragging it down his happy trail.  
  
Sam relaxed a little, thinking that was more like it. He felt the slick, sliding sensation of lust low in his gut as he watched his admittedly (though not out loud, of course) stunning brother getting closer and closer to where he wanted him to be...  
  
Sam flinched as Dean let out a loud hacking sound and then made a face, slicking his tongue out and pawing at it.  
  
“Gross, dude! What are you doing?!”  
  
“One of your damned hairs is in my mouth! And considering where I’m licking, it’s not very appetising.”  
  
“Way to kill the mood.”  
  
Dean gave a short, harsh sigh, trying to rein in his annoyance as he finally snatched hold of the hair and pulled it off his tongue with a grimace. “Look, I’m trying to do what you asked me to. However, it’s pretty clear that all you really want is for me to blow you, so why don’t we just slap some filling on your prick and I can get on with it.”  
  
Slightly concerned with Dean’s use of the word “slap”, Sam nevertheless liked the suggestion in principle. However, he wanted Dean to be enjoying himself too (although preferably with more attention focussed on the sex than the cuisine), so his face softened and he reached down to rub his thumb over Dean’s cheek. “You don’t have to.”  
  
God, he hoped Dean didn’t call his bluff.  
  
Dean smiled, shaking his head with a species of fond irritation. “Yeah, well. Luckily for you, I will.”  
  
Sam tried to stifle a smug grin as Dean reached for the box once more. While his brother was fiddling with it, he looked down at himself. Ugh. There were crumbs in his belly button.  
  
It was possible that pie hadn’t been the best choice of food for this particular activity.  
  
“I think the chocolate would have worked better,” commented Sam absently, scratching at a sticky patch of cherry and wincing as it pulled at his skin.  
  
Dean stilled. “What chocolate?”  
  
Sam’s eyes flew up to his brother’s, wide and culpable. “Uh...Nothing. No particular chocolate. Just...you know, chocolate in general.”  
  
“General chocolate like out of date chocolate syrup that _poisons_ your poor, oblivious brother, for example?”  
  
“Um...No.” He made a scoffing, completely unconvincing sound. “No! Definitely not that kind of chocolate.”  
  
Dean glared at him, so he tried to give his most winning smile, bringing out the dimples for good measure and peeking out through his bangs, trying to channel his inner puppy. “I love you.”  
  
Dean gaped at him and then gave a startled little laugh, smacking Sam on the flank. “You little bitch. You’re goddamned lucky that I’ve got some weird mental disorder that makes me think you’re cute.”  
  
“So cute that you’re still gonna blow me?” asked Sam hopefully.  
  
“Don’t push your luck,” grumbled Dean, but he was already scooping filling out of the middle of the pie. The crust was next to the pads of his fingers, a little mountain of filling jiggling on top, and he frowned in concentration as he carefully moved his hand toward his brother’s cock. He registered that his fingers were feeling a little warm a split-second before he upended the still steaming cherry onto Sam’s most sensitive part.  
  
“OW! FUCK!” Sam started frantically swiping at the substance and kicking his feet uselessly. “Get it off me, Dean! Get it off!!!!!”  
  
“Okay, okay, sorry! Shit! Uh...uh...” Not seeing any other option, deciding that this was one injury it was definitely in his best interests to mitigate, Dean swiftly engulfed Sam’s cock in his mouth – no mean feat, considering that he was flailing around on the bed like a landed trout.  
  
And shit that was hot! The roof of his mouth felt singed, so no wonder Sam was making such a fuss.  
  
Sam sighed in relief as the burning abated, flopping back down on the bed and wiping a shaking hand over his sweaty brow. He hissed when he realised how tender he felt, Dean’s tongue vaguely like sandpaper, and he pushed him away with his foot.  
  
“I can’t believe you did that!” he accused, cupping his genitals and noting with exasperation that he was still hard, like his erection hadn’t got the memo that it had been grievously injured. “Stupid dick.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“No, not you.”  
  
“Oh.” Dean gently prised Sam’s hands away from his crotch. “Aw, does it hurt?”  
  
“Of course it hurts!” whined Sam. “Some idiot put boiling hot pie on it!”  
  
“Look, it’s not even very red. Want me to kiss it better for you...?”  
  
Sam was about to hurl some verbal abuse at his brother, when he felt fingers trailing gently over his balls, massaging, and he looked down to see Dean staring up at him, all big, contrite eyes and pouty mouth. He was as sexy as all get-out, and a guilty Dean normally boded pretty damned well for Sam’s orgasm quota.  
  
“Probably hurts too much,” mumbled Sam pathetically, lower lip wibbling. “But I guess you can try.”  
  
Dean licked softly up the shaft, teasing around the head and then pushing his tongue into the slit, making Sam’s breath hitch.  
  
“Feel okay?”  
  
“Yeah, s’okay. You can keep doing that,” replied Sam huskily, as if conferring a favour, settling back on the pillows. Within a few minutes he was squirming under Dean’s attention, going out of his mind from the slow lapping and trying to thrust up into his mouth. He groaned when his brother pulled off with a chuckle and crawled up to straddle him.  
  
“You know,” murmured Dean into Sam’s ear, mouthing the lobe and breathing hot and fast over him as he ground their groins together, “If you’d just mentioned your idea to me in the first place, I’d have told you that I have flavoured lube...”  
  
Sam’s eyes widened. “You do?”  
  
Dean bounced off the bed to root in his duffle, but was soon back with a mostly full tube.  
  
“Passion fruit...?”  
  
“Shut up. Some girl gave it to me.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
Rather than changing the subject, Dean employed the time honoured diversionary tactic of grabbing Sam’s cock to lube him up. It was instantly effective.  
  
Ten minutes, a whole lot of licking and sucking and a _very_ appeased Sam later, Dean was getting ready to guide Sam’s cock into his ass.  
  
“Wait, hold on,” panted Sam, wincing. He reached down and adjusted himself.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“I...Yeah, I just feel...”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Kinda...swollen.”  
  
Dean snorted. “I thought we talked about this when you were ten...See, Sammy, when a man gets really excited...”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. “Asshat. I’m serious! It’s swollen and it’s...It’s itchy too.”  
  
“Huh.” Frowning, Dean dismounted and they both leaned in to peer at Sam’s dick. His bright red, blotchy, practically throbbing, slightly lumpy dick.  
  
“Oh yeah, we’re going to the hospital.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Dean! Where the fuck are you going?! Time is kinda of the essence here, man!”  
  
“Two seconds!”  
  
Sam tapped agitatedly on the seat leather as he waited for Dean to get back to the car, fidgeting and trying to resist the urge to scratch. What the fuck could Dean have forgotten that was _that_ important?  
  
Dean slammed his way back into the car, throwing the box on Sam’s lap and jamming the key in the ignition.  
  
Sam gritted his teeth, counting in his head so that he didn’t hit anything. Anything being Dean. “You went back for the pie? Really?”  
  
“Hey, I’ve got no idea how long I’m gonna have to wait for your sorry ass. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, Sammy.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“So, do you know what’s wrong with my brother, doc?”  
  
“Brother? I’m sorry, what did you say you were doing when the...incident occurred?” The doctor looked at them expectantly, suspicion lining his face as he glanced between the pie smudged in the corner of Dean’s mouth and Sam’s tacky happy trail.  
  
“Did I say brother?”  
  
“Uh...He means it in the street sense. We’re...um....homies.”  
  
Dean nodded in agreement. “Word.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
“Seriously, dude. How fucking gay do you have to be to be allergic to _passion fruit_?”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
  
  
THE END


End file.
